


Dr. Joanie

by ThePunkRanger



Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: Age Play, Caregiver!Joan, F/M, Fluff, Minor Injuries, little!sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 20:21:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29988321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePunkRanger/pseuds/ThePunkRanger
Summary: They say that littles get into the most trouble the second you look away.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/Joan Watson (Elementary)
Kudos: 5





	Dr. Joanie

**Author's Note:**

> This one’s been in my notes for a while now, and was inspired by the beginning of an episode which I cannot locate for the life of me now, I apologize.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy more adventures with Little!Sherlock

Joan glanced over the rims of her glasses, smiling at the sight of Sherlock, flat on his stomach on the living room floor.

Her little boy was deep in concentration as he drew yet another drawing of Clyde with the 64 pack of crayons he had picked out on their last shopping trip.He’d been contentedly coloring for hours now, enjoying a mental break after having wrapped up a case that morning, their files already stacked in a box off to the side of the fireplace.

Joan closed the book in her lap and stretched, folding her reading glasses before getting to her feet.She bent down at Sherlock’s side, ruffling his short hair.

“Aw, Clyde looks so cute in his dinosaur sweater,” she cooed, looking down at Sherlock’s drawing.Even in his littlespace, he didn’t seem to be able to turn off his need to be as accurate as possible, resulting in him spending an incredible amount of time on even the simplest of drawings, crayons in shades of green, red, and brown strewn around him as he worked to get the colors of his tortoise just right.

He nodded emphatically, rising up on his forearms to look at the drawing more critically.“Did you know that turtles and tortoises were already evolved when dinosaurs were alive?They’ve barely changed over the last three-hundred million years!”

“Is that right?”Joan asked, biting back a smile at the enthusiasm he showed at being indulged in his desire to share every fact he came across.Despite his superior attitude towards showing off his intellect most of the time, Sherlock’s only goal in sharing facts while in his littlespace was just that: sharing.She had garnered over the years that he’d had the same enthusiasm as an actual child, though it had quickly been squashed by bored adults and easily offended children who had mistaken his excitement for boasting.“Tell you what, I’m gonna go downstairs and get us a snack, okay?And when I get back, how about you tell me all about tortoises?”

Sitting up quickly, Sherlock threw his arms around her in a hug.“Okay, Joanie,” he murmured, nuzzling his nose down against her collarbone.

This.This was why she loved being Sherlock’s Mommy as much as she did.Joan squeezed him back as tightly as she could muster, then planted a quick kiss on his forehead as she eased out of his grip.“I’ll be right back.Don’t get into any trouble while I’m gone.”

Ruffling his hair, Joan got to her feet, leaving her little boy to work on his wax drawing of Clyde while she made her way down to the kitchen.

Peanut butter and jelly was as good for a little Sherlock as it was for a grown-up one, and she easily collected the ingredients from around the kitchen before getting to work on a pair of sandwiches.

She had just finished cutting the crust off of Sherlock’s, and was midway into cutting it into four triangles when a crash from upstairs made her jump.

“Sherlock?”

No response.

“Shit.”

Abandoning her task, she rushed up the stairs and through the study back to the library.

Sherlock lay sprawled on his back, staring wide-eyed up at the ceiling.As she drew closer, she could hear his loud, startled gasps beginning to gain volume as they turned to distressed cries.

“Sherlock, what happened?”Joan asked, working to keep her voice level as she came to kneel at his side.Her little was nearing hysterics, and she reached out to stroke his hair, covertly checking over his skull for any harm.His head seemed fine from what she could see, but his right forearm was sporting a long, shallow gash that was beginning to bleed over.

“W- w-w-wan- wanted- wan- wanted-“ Sherlock stuttered through his gasping tears, pointing up towards the top shelf of the nearest bookcase.

Joan followed the line of his outstretched finger, looking up to where the sliding ladder had been rolled over to it’s new position in front of where Sherlock lay on the floor.He’d lost his balance and fallen, hitting the corner of the mantle on the way down.

“Sherlock, you know you’re not supposed to climb the ladder while Mommy’s not around,” she chastised gently, helping the boy up into a sitting position. 

Sherlock only sniffled in response, wiping ineffectually at his eyes with an open palm.

Joan pulled him into a loose hug, letting him press his head down against her shoulder as he cried.“That must’ve been so scary, falling like that...” she murmured, rubbing his back in soothing circles, “I know it can be hard sometimes, remembering what things are too big for little boys, but I need you to try and be more careful in the future, okay?”

She felt more than saw him nod, and sighed quietly, letting her lips brush his hair.He seemed more startled than anything, and she knew it was often best to let him cry it out when he could.Still, the blood on his arm was starting to drip down past his elbow, and she knew that she’d need to address it sooner rather than later.

As his tears slowed, she gently maneuvered him up from her shoulder, using a thumb to wipe away the few drops that continued to fall from his eyes.“Let’s take you downstairs and get you stitched up, okay?”

Sherlock sniffled, but managed a nod, holding out his uninjured arm for her to use to help him to his feet.

He was subdued and off-balance as he followed her down to the kitchen, stumbling a little as he navigated the stairs.

“Here baby, sit down,” Joan prompted, pulling out a chair from the dining table.

“Okay...” Sherlock’s voice was tiny, and she couldn’t tell wether he was quieted by fear or by pain.

The first-aid kit in the china cabinet was the best stocked in the house, and she put it down gently on the tabletop before pulling out a chair of her own, sitting so that she faced Sherlock, their knees fitting together from their closeness.

“Hold out your arm for me,” she instructed, flipping open the first-aid kit to find what she would need to care for his wound.The dark, wispy hair on his forearm was matted with quickly-drying blood, and she tore open the packaging on a cleaning cloth before beginning to wipe it away.“This might sting a little, okay?But it’s gonna make you feel better afterwards.”

Sherlock flinched as the antiseptic-soaked cloth was dragged over his cut.“How...” he swallowed, eyes wide with childlike curiosity as he watched her work, “How do you know?”He swiped at his still misty eyes with his free hand, and Joan offered him a reassuring smile, passing the little boy a tissue before resuming her work.

“Because I’m a mommy, and mommies know just how to take care of their littles and make them feel better.”She poked him lightly in the chest, earning a giggle.

“Like a doctor?”

Joan’s hands froze, her smile faltering for a split-second at Sherlock’s words.Sherlock’s senses may have been allowed to dull while in his littlespace, but even still she could tell that he realized something was wrong.His eyebrows drew together, and he lowered his gaze to his lap in an effort of concentration, his quiet little brain beginning to whirl again as he worked to figure out what he’d done wrong.

Joan sighed, allowing the tension of the trigger to flow out of her in the single breath before taking his jaw in her hand, lifting his head so that he could look at her.“That’s right. Just like a doctor.And just like a doctor, I’m going to make sure that  you ,” she reached out with her other hand to tickle under Sherlock’s arm, pulling back the boyish grin she loved so much as he squirmed away from her fingers, “Get patched up good as new.”

“Why?”Sherlock asked quietly, lifting his knees to swing his feet under the chair as Joan began administering a gel to numb his pain.

Joan couldn’t fight the grin that tugged at her as she peeled back the paper backing of a cartoon bandage.“Because I love you.”She smoothed the bandage over his arm, then caught his lips in a soft kiss.“Now then,” she got to her feet, collecting the scattered packaging of the bandage and cleaning cloth, “I believe someone was going to tell me about how amazing turtles were?”


End file.
